Blood of Another
by dArkliTe-sPirit
Summary: AU. Vengence isn't always best served cold..... DnARated for a bad word


Ok, mild 'Tanglewood' spoilers, mild RSRD spoilers, major 'Heroes' spoilers. As I said, it's AU, so the events of 'GMACS' never happened – you hear? Aiden was never fired! And, a certain someone doesn't work at the lab...

* * *

It was a knock on the door that pulled the attention of Aiden Burn away from her work, to see who was there. Upon seeing the oh-so-familiar visage of Don Flack, she frowned. Though he meant well, Flack had a tendency to truly annoy her.

"Flack, make it quick. I'm busy," she snapped. She was very frustrated. Despite all the evidence linking a man named D.J. Pratt to two crime scenes, he seemed to be out of reach. The fact that he was still out there annoyed her to no end. Flack smirked slightly, replying with "Your boyfriend's here. In booking."

"Daniel?"

"The one and only."

"On what?"

"Possession with intent to distribute – and resisting arrest."

Aiden couldn't help to smile. It was him alright. "Make sure no one goes in here, ok?" she said as she walked out, brushing past Flack.

Daniel wasn't her boyfriend, despite what he said. He was a Tanglewood boy; they had met on the Montenassi case. He had briefly been a suspect, but his alibi had proved true, and he was released. However, he had seemingly developed an infatuation with Aiden. If a case required information about certain drug dealers or clubs, Mac often asked her to talk to Daniel and get information on whatever it was.

A brief walk later, Aiden was in front of a small cell, where a young man sat casually, whistling the theme to "Bridge on the River Kwai". His bright blue eyes, brightened by the contact lenses he wore, complimented his messy brown hair. He wore a gray Yankees hoodie and old jeans, completing the hoodlum look. Aiden chuckled, causing the man to look up. He stopped whistling to grin.

"Well, well, well – if it ain't my favorite detective. How's your boyfriend?" he said, with the chuckle.

"Save the wisecracks for later, Danny. Why are you here?" she demanded. Danny shrugged.

"I dunno. You tell me."

"Well, let's start with possession. You said you were cleaning up some, Messer."

"I am – it was weed, not crack." Danny Messer gave a grin to put the Cheshire Cat to shame. Aiden sighed, asking, "What am I gonna do with you, Messer?"

"Go out with me?" Aiden glared at the brunette, who shrugged and added, "Hey, you asked. Besides, I won't be here long. You know that one call you get?"

"…you don't get that in booking, Messer."

"Sure I do." Danny's grin turned into a smirk as he pulled out a silver camera phone and tossed it through the bars to the female detective. "Tell that copper I said thanks. Louie's comin' any minute." He stopped, seeing the frown on her face. "So, how's your case goin'?"

Aiden sighed. "Terrible…"

(---)

"Three fuckin' months," Danny said with a sigh, as he took a drag on his cigarette, picking up a newspaper. It had been three months since he had last seen Aiden. It was a shame, too. A new sports bar had opened, and he wanted to show her around.

The first part of the paper Danny Messer always read was the obituaries, to see if any Tanglewoods had died. Still, nothing prepared him for what he saw on the front page, causing him to choke on his cigarette.

Staring at him was the face of Aiden, with the headline reading NEW YORK COP KILLED.

Danny nearly dropped the paper. She… was dead. His girl was dead. Quickly, he skimmed the article. _"found last Thursday…torched beyond recognition…will be missed… funeral to be held on Saturday, May 13 at 2:00 in the afternoon…"_ She had been murdered.

This was the work of D.J. Pratt, without a doubt.

Danny paused. Today was Thursday. He had two days to get nice clothes and… a present. He knew what to do. Throwing down the newspaper, he pulled out a cell phone and dialed a number. For a few seconds, all he heard was a dial tone. Then –

"Lil' bro? 'Sup?"

"It's important, Louie, so listen close, ok? Remember Aiden, my girl?"

(---)

A man exited an apartment building, carrying two buckets of paint, whistling quietly. Today, he felt on top of the word. Nothing could bring him, D.J. Pratt, down. Nothing, and no one. Pausing by his car, he put down his buckets, rooting through his pockets for his keys.

Two pairs of arms grabbed him and threw him down to the sidewalk. He felt a blood on his skull. Looking up, he saw two men standing over him. One of them, the younger-looking one, looked angry – to say the least. 'Pissed' was probably a better word.

"Hey, what's the deal?" Pratt demanded, starting to get up. He didn't get far, though, when the younger man kicked him in the ribcage, knocking him down.

"Whaddaya mean 'What's the deal'? You killed my girl!" he yelled. Pratt held his hands up, saying, "Whoa, maybe you're mistaking me-"

He was silenced b a punch from the other man. "My bro's sure, there's no mistake," he replied. Then, before Pratt could defend himself, the two men started kicking and punching him in the ribcage and face, the younger one being particularly relentless. With the streets empty, no help was in sight.

Then, they both stepped away. Pratt paused. Were they letting him go? The click of a gun told him no.

"An eye for an eye," the younger one hissed.

A gunshot sounded and faded into the night air.

(---)

Mac bowed his head in silent prayer as the coffin of Aiden Burns was lowered into the ground. Besides those who had worked in the lab, few others attended her funeral – just a friend from Montana, her family, and a blue-eyed man who couldn't be older than 30. He knew them all, except for that man. He seemed familiar – but the detective couldn't put his finger on it.

As the service drew to a close, Mac decided to figure out who he was. Walking over, he noted tears streaking his dirty face. "Excuse me, sir?"

The man jumped at Mac's voice. Wiping his face on the sleeve of his black overcoat, he said, "Yeah? What is it?"

"I'm Mac Taylor-"

"Aiden's boss, right?"

"Yes." Mac was surprised that this man had heard of him. "I'm just curious, how well did you know Aiden?" The younger man sniffled.

"Six months. I'm Danny." Now Mac knew how he was familiar. He was the Tanglewood boy, the one who sometimes helped on their cases – as long as he talked to Aiden. As far as he could tell, Danny had always liked Aiden.

"Why are you here?"

"What, I can't pay my respects to the best copper Manhattan's ever seen?" Mac was unsure of how to reply to that. Danny was right. He chose simply to walk away from the brunette. Slowly, one by one, everyone left – except Danny. He looked at her tombstone. It wasn't fancy – a simple plaque on a block of marble.

"Don't worry Aiden," he whispered, pulling out something from his overcoat. Looking at it, he bent down and laid it on the grave. "He'll never hurt anyone else ever again. I'm sure of it." A sad smile on his face, Danny Messer stood up and slowly walked away, back into the streets of Manhattan, contemplating what to do next.

And, laying on the grave of Aiden Burns, there was a rose. A white rose, dipped in the blood of a monster.


End file.
